


Lie With Your Back To The Stars

by Ohiknowlotsofthings10



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst and Feels, Fluff, Homestuck - Freeform, M/M, Romance, Sadstuck, angsty feels, firstpostedfic, ifyouwantsomenicefluffyfeelsthenhereyouare, jacknoirthatsneekybastard, johnkat - Freeform, prettyshortfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7073815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohiknowlotsofthings10/pseuds/Ohiknowlotsofthings10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You look through the haze in your eyes and see him laying peacefully, still a short distance away from you. His front is turned away and you're left staring at the blood seeping through his hood coloring the creulean fabric crimson. "John?"</p><p>This is a short sadstuck fic that does involve fluff for all you you johnkat shippers out there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is the first fic i'll be posting to archive and I wanted to start out with a simple fluff story. This fic is based on this comic>>> https://archiveofourown.org/works/250497 and the lovely reader who helped me find it was Karkatastrophe. Thanks to all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap I completely left out chapter 4 when I published this, god I'm an idiot and I'm so sorry. Well now the full fic is out, enjoy.

>Be Karkat Vantas  
Dying isn’t like how you thought it would be. What you imagined came closer to that millisecond of terror when your foot misses a step on the stair case and you seem to black out a bit before realizing that you were being an idiot and you only misplaced your foot by a few inches. The resemblance between those two opposite occurrences is uncanny.  


However instead of being presented with a split moment of horror then released from that second of weightlessness you are gifted with the bittersweet lukewarmth of blood seeping through your clothing. Your eyes are closed at the moment and you assume it’s your own blood, but of course you can never be entirely sure with the circumstances you have been forced under lately.  


Surprisingly you are actually very comfortable in your current position. Well, as content as you can be while you are stewing in thick liquid laying on your side on a giant slab of concrete in the middle of a galaxy you are not entirely fond of or familiar with. But you suppose it could be worse. Things could always turn extremely frightening extremely fast for you. And it seems like they always do. You’ve been stabbed before but this time is different somehow. This time something is very wrong, well you guess it’s apparent something is wrong when you get stabbed but most of the other times have been mistakes or misunderstandings.  


Jack Noir was a few of those. Of course you forgave him for stabbing you because in then end you found a similarity between the two of you and he was probably just very irritated at that moment. Blood was what you had in common. Your blood color had never been seen by others and defiantly not by strangers, but obviously when you get shanked with a knife in your side something is ought to come out. When Jack saw your distress he reluctantly sliced his arm with the same blade and put his own color on display. That was a new moment for you; it was a new emotion. It was acceptance you suppose. You have always been accepted by your friends, but then again they have never known what rank you are in the hemospectrum and how you played into the Alternian society back on your home planet. This was acceptance of a new kind. It was someone knowing of what you are and being perfectly apathetic toward it because they are the same.  


You realize now though that Jack is a raging douche bag that has a huge fucking problem with erotophonophilia. You move your arm at a slow pace underneath you to assess the damage you might have caused it from falling; at least you think you fell…you might have been pushed? It’s been a rough day. The joint in your elbow creaks a bit as you release your forearm from under your chest and slide it into a new position along your side, but overall it doesn’t feel broken or injured at all besides a few bruises. Now that your consciousness is fully regained, so are all of the rest of your senses including pain; holy fucking shit that hurt! You keep your eyes closed and lift your stomach a bit to see if you would be able to move the rest of your body properly.  


You feel your sweater collect more blood as it pours out of a wound through your abdomen and you see now that yes, you were in fact stabbed, great fucking job Sherlock. You mentally scold yourself for being such a dumbass and lay your chest back down into the warm moisture pooling around you. What the fuck did you do to get yourself into this. Everything was peachy fucking keen earlier when you were with the others. You have been stuck on this meteor for an incomprehensible amount of time and are really tired of everything and everyone’s shit. And by everyone you mean Kanaya, Rose, Terezi, Dave, and of course John.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter here you go.

Flashback  


John appeared toward the second month of your journey out of thin air. Literally. He actually zapped in a flash of blue light while you were suffering from insomnia inside of your sleep chamber. He scared the living shit out of you and your eyes were clouded from the spoor slime in your recoopercoon when you first saw him. He couldn’t see jack shit in the pitch black of your closed off cement room, but you’ve lived in the dark of Alternia for so long that you could easily make out his figure. He stood in a defensive stance with his back facing away from where you laid watching.  


His hair stood up in random places and looked wind-tussled, which it most likely how it got like that considering his breath aspect. You croaked out his name listening for a response to make certain that he was actually there and not just some fucked up figment of your sleep deprived imagination. He nearly pissed himself when he heard you and spun on his heels toward where you were leaning over the side of the recoopercoon. He couldn’t see you because of his pathetic human vision but you could clearly see fear on his face while he peered into the darkness looking for whoever called his name.  


“John, you incompetent bulge licker, what the ever-loving fuck are you doing in my room? How in the name of all that is good did you even manage to fucking get here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Harley flying a colossal ship right about now? How did you, a miserable excuse for a life form and a waste of space, somehow coax the universe into allowing you to end up in my sleep chamber when you are supposed to be A BILLION FUCKING MILES AWAY?!”  


Your tone started tense and scratchy from not being in use then proceeded to crescendo to an unholy decimal filled with pure rage and confusion. Who the hell does he think he is? A fucking threshacutioner ready to barge in at any moment and harass you? All you want to do is sleep. John’s shoulders stiffened and his eyes widened to approximately the size of “dinner plates” which is what Rose calls them although to you they’ve always been referred to as “grub platters”.  


“Karkat?”  


You guess he recognized it was you because of how you spoke. He knew what vocabulary you use and how you use it from the previous conversations you’ve had with him and honest to gog are furious that you have pestered him enough that he can tell that it’s you without ever hearing your real voice before.  


“Yes ass wipe, it’s me”, you reply in a disgruntled tone and wipe off more sopor out of your eyes. You were so tired you couldn’t insult him further or even manage to raise your voice like before. John relaxed noticeably and immediately started to grope the wall next to him for a light switch you assumed. You stared waiting until you heard him sigh under his breath as he found the small plastic nob and flicked it upwards. You shut your eyes on instinct before the blinding light invaded your irises and brought up your hands to block more out. “John, you fucking nook-licker turn that off!”  


You heard him turn around and inhale quickly. “Karkat, it’s you! I can’t believe it worked,” he exclaimed with the enthusiasm of a wriggler. A gust of wind stirred around you and suddenly there was a giant wad of thick hair pushed up forcibly against your face. That was the first time you ever came in physical contact with John Egbert. His arms wrapped around your shoulders as best they could with most of your body still submerged in your recoopercoon and he squeezed with the force of a hiss-beast choking its prey. He was taller than you, that was for sure. You could tell just by the way he leaned over you and your recoopercoon. Your hands were still near your face when he attacked, so your arms were thrusted against your chest and kept there uncomfortably while he embraced you with excitement.  


You took in a deep breath of surprise and inhaled his scent for the first time. His hair was sweaty and reeked faintly of ozone. You picked up whiffs of something very sugary-smelling and rich but you couldn’t put a name on it. You didn’t have much of a variety of foods considering you had to alchemize everything yourselves on the meteor and it took time and effort, so something that consisted of sugar was not often in the “kitchen” as Strider calls it. The odor reminded you of a sort of special grub sauce that is used on 12th perigees eve for those who could access it when you were being raised by your lusus. You never liked it very much, but it wouldn’t hurt to give it another try if you could alchemize some.  


“I thought that teleportation wouldn’t work over such a long distance but I guess I was wrong! Jade owes me 10 bucks,” John chirps out with short chuckles.  


He only held you for a few seconds then released you squirming while rubbing his hands and arms along his god tier pajama bottoms. “What the hell is this? … Oh god it’s so slick.” He looked at the sopor slime on his arms from touching you and suck out his tongue in disgust. He was just as childish in real life as he was during your pestering chats. Your chest and shoulders where colder now that the warmth of John and the slime were taken away from you and you dipped yourself into the thick liquid once again before you leaned over the edge of the recoopercoon like before as your newly freed hands gripped the sides.  


You huffed in exasperation and scowled at him with your brows furrowed and much as you could. “It’s sopor, you asinine grub-fuck,” you spat at him as venom dripped from your words. He paid no mind to the severity of your tone and continued to rub the slime on his bottoms while staring at it, clearly repulsed.  


“You trolls are weird. I can’t believe I- “. He paused suddenly in his speaking and action and took on a look of awareness. “I forgot about the others!” He explained hurriedly and threw his hands up in exaggeration. “I have to find Dave and Rose and let them know I’m here!” He sprinted to the exit of your holding anxiously and threw open the door using the breeze as a propellant, and just like that, he was out of your room and you could hear him sprint down the corridor then result to flying after he got further down.  


You heard him yelling out Strider’s and Lalonde’s names in joy and eagerness down the hall as you slumped out of your recoopercoon, now fully awake, and cleaned yourself of the sopor and dressed in your usual gray sweater and sweatpants.  
Somehow, although unexpected and completely haphazardly, John Egbert has opened a door into your life.  


End of Flashback


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter. If you have any questions or criticism then please comment. I appreciate it.

Start of Another Flashback  


Your day started off like every other miserable one you spent with the unintelligent ignoramus’ you call your meteor companions. You can’t even call it a day really due to the fact that you are traveling in deep space and don’t revolve around a colossal fuck-ton sphere of fusing gas anymore; it’s more or less like a sleep cycle rotation that most of you are synced up to that you refer to as “days”. John had been pissing you off constantly lately with his inane sense of humor and his constant idiotic actions with Dave. Of course you will occasionally join in with them if they are in the common room or with the Mayor in the corridors using some alchemized chalk to scribble down profane drawings of what you infer is human genitalia. Fucking Strider and his perverted infatuation with bulges.  


John is by far the worst of the two though. There’s a perpetual stream of giggling that echoes throughout the meteor and invades your sound chutes at random points in the time you are awake and even asleep. The most insufferable aspect about him that you deal with is of course his imbecilic “pranks” if he is even able to associate that word with what he does. His poor attempts at trying to “get you” are embarrassing in the least and leave you exasperated every time. John has aimed for every joke he could bestow upon you from a handshake that buzzes and electrocutes you to a bucket of water placed daintily above the door to your sleep chamber. Let’s just say you’ve had it with his shit.  


This “morning” when you were enjoying a caffeinated brown beverage that Rose offered you politely, John flew giddily into the common room where you were waking up. The beam of his toothy grin could blind anyone as he displayed almost all of his teeth. You glared at him as he entered and greeted Rose cheerily. Honestly who the hell wakes up and smiles as the first thing they do? John grabs another mug from the storage shelf and fills it with another drink Rose had made. When you looked earlier it smelled like mint and was much clearer than what you had. Rose recommended you the dark brown liquid though because apparently “you appear as if you have been hit by a truck”. John floats energetically toward where you are resting at the table in the middle of the room. He smiles at you in greeting and plops down across the table on a wooden bench.  


“Hey Karkat! How’s it going?” He chirps at you with his sing-songy voice. You narrow your eyes a bit more and sneer at him threateningly. “How do you think it’s going nook-sniffer? I’m being burdened with your presence after all. The rude noise erupting from all of your shitty man-baby films last night kept me awake and even though I turned off the computer you were using after your weak body passed out on it the sound of bunnies and boxes rang through my ears like a fucking horror terror screech, so let’s just say that it’s not going too well.” You spit out that last words and put in as much hatred in your words as you could on your low energy levels.  


John doesn’t flinch in the slightest and continues to smirk at you in an endearing sort of way which boils your blood even more. “Oh come on Karkat,” he rolls his eyes and sips at his steaming mug of whatever the hell he made. “Nick Cage is great and you know it. Plus, Con Air is a legendary cinematic production that does not get the recognition it deserves! It is simply the best there is.” He sticks his tongue out at you then blows some of the steam away from his drink to cool it down. A tuft of dark hair drifts down to rest along his forehead. He notices it and blows a puff of air at the top of his head to push it back up.  


You dig your fingers into the cup and drink more of the strange liquid as it warms your stomach. It tastes different from what you’re used to and has a thick consistency from the moo beast cream that Rose put in. At least you think it’s cream; it could be anything since you didn’t make it yourself. Any way it tastes pretty good and it keeps you awake so you continue to drink.  


“Your ‘legendary cinematic productions’ are a pile of muscle-beast shit and so are you, you fucking brainless bulge-licker,” you retort with loathing. John smirks at you and sips more of whatever he’s drinking. “How’s your coffee?” He smiles and raises his cup to cover his mouth. You peer down at your mug and stare suspiciously. Suddenly you are more hesitant about ingesting anything that you didn’t make yourself and especially anything you didn’t even know the name of.  


Your eyes flick back up to him and he stares back with a knowing grin. “What did you do to it, ass-muncher?” He giggles smugly and tries to cover his grin with his cup even more now. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Karkat,” he answers feigning ignorance. “I just asked how your coffee was trying to make conversation.” John clenches his shoulders trying, and failing, to reduce the amount of snickers emitting from him and nearly chokes on his drink. You set your “coffee” down on the table and stand away from the bench so you are leaning over John angrily with your hands on the table top and glaring holes into the thick frames of his glasses. “John fucking Egbert, if you don’t tell me right now what you just made me swallow I swear to every gogdamned ghost that festers in these repulsive dream bubbles that I will release a fit of pure acrimony that would make the Signless proud to see; do you understand?”  


John glances up at you with faux innocence and continues his buck-toothed smirk. “Well…,” he sings in a condescending tone while you glare daggers. “I might have put something special in the milk earlier today…if you consider that green slime you sleep in ‘special’.” Your scowl falters for a second then comes back full force as you reach across the table and grab a fistful of his idiotic blue god-tier hood and yank his face closer to yours. His eyes widen and the drink he held earlier clattered to the ground emitting a clanking sound and splashing the mint-smelling liquid across the floor.  


“Are you telling me...” Your voice is filled with rage but remains steady and constant at you spit venom at him. “...that you put fucking spoor slime in my drink?” John’s grin widens to its full capacity while you speak and the laugh lines around the corners of his eyes scrunch up in amusement.  


“Got you good didn’t I? Sassacre would be proud.” He giggles cheekily at your reaction and you tighten your hold on his clothing before shoving him away with enough force that he topples over the table’s bench and lands with his butt hitting the concrete floor. “Ow! Karkat, come on it was just a prank”. John smiled up at you cheekily and shrugged his shoulders. You glower for a moment at him on the floor, ready to beat the ever loving shit out of him. But then…he looks at you. It’s been a few months since he arrived out of nowhere and you still fall victim to his stare every fucking time. His eyes are honestly the most hypnotizing thing you have ever encountered in the history of paradox space. They’ve changed color since he was younger and you watched him through your pestering. They’ve become a shade darker than the icy blue you first saw and when he invited himself to your meteor corpse party you recognized a cerulean version of the eyes you first turned black for.  


Your caliginous feelings for John haven’t faded completely as you hoped, but instead evolved into something…different. Not quite black anymore but a mutation of a redder shade. It seems like everything about you is a disgusting, abnormal red. So your current disposition toward John is a fluxing hate-flushed cluster fuck of what quadrant do I want this asshole in? The aggressive side of you is why he was lying on the ground while you stood above, but the pitying side is what kept him from fearing you.  


He was gaping up at you, all traces of his childish amusement vanished and now replaced with concern. Oh gog you hate that look. You hate that he cares for you and you absolutely detest that he cares in a way that is completely pale. Your scowl lessened by a fraction and you look him once over before you took a step away from the bench you sat on a minuet ago. You knew he was expecting you to yell at him more and you’re sorry to disappoint, but you won’t put up with this bullshit anymore. The shit he pulls with his pranks and obliviousness and the shit you put yourself through because you can’t get enough of him.  


John’s eyebrows raised in question as you turned on your heel and faced your body away from the table. “Fuck you…” You sighed and knew he heard it.” I’m gonna take a patrol around the meteor.” You face away from him now and walk toward the room’s exit with purpose. He moves to get up and you hear him pull himself up using the table.  


“Wait! Karkat I’m sorry; I just wanted to pull a harmless prank, that’s all…” John’s voice rings out behind you in worry. That’s one of the reasons why it wasn’t just a ‘harmless prank’. Every time John fucks with you it just pulls your heart strings tighter and sooner or later you’re going to lash out at him, either in a fit of rage that leaves you both hurt or attack him with every ounce of passion that has been building up in you for fucking months. To you it’s not a prank, but a sick reminder that John still sees you as nothing more than a friend that he can joke around with and annoy constantly. You needed to leave to clear your head before you did something you’d regret.  


You didn’t need to look back to know that he was staring a hole in the back of your head. “Shut the fuck up Egbert, the horrid stream of word vomit emitting from your protein chute right now is enough to make anyone leave, I just…” You pause. “Need some air…or something, I don’t know.” You walked quickly out of the common room and ignored John calling your name. He wouldn’t follow you. Well…at least you hoped he was smart enough to know that you didn’t want to talk to him then and see the signs that you were irritated. He’d probably follow you.  


You threaded through the hallways with ease and eventually arrived at the exit way to the outside of the building. The sky was still a white-speckled canvas of pitch that you are accustomed to and the rock of the meteor remained the usual brown-gray from when you last ventured outside. Space is dreary and uneventful here, but it acted as a prime setting for any emotional and/or mental recuperation. You slumped against the side of the cold, concrete building and brought your knees up to your chest to burrow your face into the fabric of your sweatpants. If no one else would hold you then you might as well hold yourself.  


Fucking John and his asinine fucking pranks and his delusional optimism and his absurd fascination with movies and his nauseating laugh and his immature humor and his loathsome ability to completely ruin you within a matter of seconds. Fuck him. And Fuck You. Fuck everything, you don’t want to feel like this. You don’t want the handicap that is John Egbert to cause you to care anymore. It’s revolting what you’ve come to.  


Maybe you could try to change; you could try to change what you want from him. Your lust could reform to a lack of interest and passion turn to apathy. Will you feel better, though? If you go back to how you acted before John pranced into your life like a fucking flutter-beast. It would be better than this. You sighed into your pant leg and warmed your cheeks with a sultry breath. Wow. This is absolutely pathetic, even for you. And that says a lot in your opinion. You raised your head from the comfort of your knees and looked out at the endless oblivion that you were rocketing through. It was quiet.  


And then the universe managed to fuck you over like usual.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack materialized out of nowhere about 80 feet above where you where wallowing in your dismay and self-loathing. He sniffed the air and listened for a moment as if searching for something before training his dark, canine eyes on your location and stared. You don’t know why or how he is here, but when you are faced with a mutated flying dog that carries a sword as an accessory you have a decision of fight or flight. You’ll be fucked strait back to Alternia before you succumb to any fear or uncertainty that this mutt puts you through. You pushed yourself off of the dusted ground and immediately released your sickles from your strife sebicus. They felt familiar in your grip and brought on a sense of security that comforted you, if only slightly. You raised them to eye level but never let your glare leave your opponent.

Jack narrowed his beady eyes and you see that he recognized you from before. He raised his sword steadily and flapped his wings in a single fluid motion that sent him descending rapidly toward you. Adrenalin coursed through your veins like syrup. It’s thick and succulent and boosted your body forward in an upsurge of energy. Fighting has always been one of your better attributes and you let the euphoria of movement and anticipation direct you toward Noir with exhilaration. Jack pulled his arms back and surged them forward allowing his sword to collide with the red material of your sickles. The force brought your own weapons closer to your face than you would like and you twisted your body out of the path of aggression Jack was barreling down. You side stepped, careful of your placement, as Jack passed quickly to the side of you and turned swiftly back to retaliate.

Why the fuck is he here? You questioned your old comrade’s presence on the meteor when, from your understanding, he should have been buried deep within another galaxy being pursued by another white bark-beast that has the same infatuation for excessive masochism. Jack dived back toward you with impressive agility and speed while you raised your sickles once again to protect you face. You shut your eyes from the force of him crashing into you and heard the eerie collision of metal against metal. His movements were smooth and calibrated while you lagged behind in the swiftness department; that didn't stop you from putting up your best fight, though. You’ll be thrown to the horror terrors before you’d allow Jack to escape you and hurt anyone else.

You parried to the right once more all while deflecting Jack’s blow to your weapons, so he goes tumbling past you and you surged forward to make enough distance that you could prepare for a counter attack either from your, or his end. You faced away from him and pivoted on your heels to give your sickles the movement they needed to make a formidable attack on his sword. Once you turned your head to look at him you realized that you fucked up. You fucked up bad. Jack was expected to dive at you again in a head-on strike like you've known him to do, but when your eyes saw his form you noticed that his stance was set for a more defensive opposition. You went barreling forward from the inertia of your own thoughtless attack and Jack flied upward when you get close enough to reach him.

You’re thrown off balance and stumble a couple of feet before you regained the stability you needed to look behind you and face Jack again. Then all you saw was a coarse wall of black a foot away from your face. The steel of his blade was cool inside of you at first but almost instantaneously warmed from the blood oozing below your chest bone. You didn’t bother to look down to know that you’ve lost, but instead looked upward to meet the vacant black orbs that Jack used to stare daggers at you with. He narrowed his eyelids a fraction when you glared back with just as much distain as he was putting out. You wanted him to know that you were not afraid; that you were not going to struggle against the defeat he had presented you with.

The edges of your vision began to cloud and blur with your consciousness rapidly fading and your knees caved in on each other while Jack extracted the sword from your flesh with a slick jerk. Your knees hit the pavement all the while your sights never derailed from Jack. The fabric of your sweatpants soaked up the cherry red liquid that swirled around you and it feels nice almost, to be warm while the air around you becomes so cold. A pounding in your head started up and you couldn’t concentrate much on your opponent anymore besides the vague impression of him in front of you. His dark fur blended into the pitch sky enclosed around you both and the black was inviting.

“Karkat!”

You recognized your name but gave the addresser little to no attention. Your head was heavy as your body gave up and collided with the frigid cement beneath you. A faint, aggressive snarl seemed to echo directly above you before a gust of wind blew the noise further away. The last thing you heard was a cry and a bark before the foggy barrier of your senses concaved around you and closed off your consciousness from the chill of your blood cooling.


	5. Chapter 5

Alright, well you assume you aren’t dead yet from the blinding pain rocketing through your system and the constant pounding in your think-pan. That means Jack forgot to finish you off himself and simply left you to rot alone outside for the rest of the meteor residents to find your corpse. Fan-fucking-tastic.  


The reek of blood is nauseating. You scrunch your nose and know that you can’t stay here forever. Your eyes are harder to open than expected but you manage to pry your lids off each other with not much effort. You glance at the bright crimson that’s bathing the ground for a moment then look away. You don’t want to be reminded of your disgusting mutation while you are attempting not to die from blood loss. Your eyes flicker toward a smudge of blue off in the distance from where you lay.  


Your vision is beginning to clear by now and you can make out perfectly a lump of bright sky blue that’s flecked with a color similar to what you’re soaking in. You know that blue and your stomach lurches up toward your throat. John. It was him. That voice that cried your name before you passed out. It was him. And Jack…oh gog.  


Ignoring the ache drilling through your bones you raise yourself into a crawling position and place your hand on the hole in your abdomen. Blood covers your hand immediately and streams down into the sleeve of your sweater, soaking it through. John, that asinine fuckass. Did he really have to follow you outside just as you were getting impaled? Of course he had to. He’s John. He’ll always be in the wrong place at the wrong time right there with you to fuck things up even further. You don’t know if that makes you blacker or redder for him.  


You look over and notice the rise and fall of his side indicating that he’s still breathing, if only faintly. He lays only about ten feet away from you, but the distance seems much further based on your circumstances. You slide your left leg forward through the ocean of blood you’ve surrounded yourself in and propel the rest of your body in John’s direction. You keep your hand placed firmly over your wound, trying to contain all of the red liquid that’s threatening to leak out of you. Come on grub-fucker, he’s only a few feet away. You chide yourself and struggle through the pain billowing through your chest. Don’t let him suffer alone.  


The trek is agonizing and messy, but you manage to half crawl/half drag yourself over to John. He’s facing toward the empty mass of space and you slide slowly around his form so that you’re seeing the front of him now. His face is blood-splattered and his arms are scratched and dripping red. His major wound is a replica of yours: a gaping, oozing hole through the mid-section that is the result of an unevenly matched strife with Jack Noir. You guess he lives up to his erotophonophiliac tendencies.  


John’s glasses lay a few inches away, bloodied and cracked, much like himself. You know he heard you struggle over to him and he’s staring at you now that you’re facing him. He’s hurting a lot. It shows in the tightness of his muscles and the way his jaw is set. You use your left hand to move yourself parallel to John and lay down slowly to the concrete. It’s cold. You don’t say anything as you reach timidly forward to retrieve his glasses and lift them upward. It’s more difficult to put them on his face than you expected and you hit his ear a few times with the piece that lays near the side of his head.  


He smiles at you weakly, but you see the gratefulness in his features. A tear slides down his face as he sluggishly raises his left hand to rest upon your right. It’s a small gesture, but to you it’s exactly what you need. You cup his cheek and wipe the tears from under his glasses, leaving a smear of blood in their place. There you go fucking things up again.  


John doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind and shifts his body so he’s lying on his stomach instead of his side. He’s still facing you and smiles through the pain you know he’s in right now. Getting stabbed is not a pleasant experience, you know that for sure. You allow a small smirk to be shown and his eyes widen, if only by a fraction. You don’t smile often and he knows that. But you smile now; you smile because you’re not dying alone. John won’t die because of his god tier, but you aren’t so sure about yourself.  


Your hand falls from his cheek to the ground but you grip his fingers tight, afraid that if you don’t hold onto something you rely on you’ll just drift away. John squeezes back for a moment then weakens and simply allows his hand to rest in your possession. He’s covered in blood and sweat leaves trails through the red, his hands are covered in grime that was picked up from the ground, and his glasses are cracked and slightly crooked. He looks like he was attacked by a rabid muscle-beast, and yet…he looks absolutely beautiful to you. You don’t understand why, but right here, right now, John is the only thing keeping you anchored to reality and his smile is the only thing that matters.  


John’s breathing is faint and you’re close enough to feel it along your cheeks and neck. It tickles and feels warm. You watch as his eyes dart across your body starting with your covered abdomen and ending with the scratches along your cheeks from face-planting the floor earlier. John tightens his hold on your fingers and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.  


“You’re an idiot, you know that right,” you croak out, still grinning at him. It hurts to see him so beaten and weak. You shouldn’t have walked away from him earlier; if you didn’t then he wouldn’t be like this. John chuckles then gasps from the pain it causes. You feel tears well up in the corners of your eyes and watch as he relaxes his muscles again.  
v “Yeah…I know.” He inhales and you hear the strain to get his lungs to function. He licks his lips and studies your face, not meeting your gaze. “I just wanted- “. He coughs and wheezes for a moment while you wait patiently. “-to apologize for earlier…I guess I should cut back on the pranking.”  


His smile widens sheepishly and you take in the way it looks. Might as well get everything out before something else happens to fuck you up.  


“No, it’s my fault that I over reacted and came to mope in self-pity out here…If I wasn’t such a worthless piece of shit then you wouldn’t have followed me and gotten hurt.” You swallow a lump in your throat and look at your intertwined fingers covered in blood. “…I’m sorry.”  


Your voice is strained and you feel moisture bordering your eyes, but you’re glad you got that out. Now time for the rest.  


“John, I need to tel- “  


“Karkat, I would rather get beaten by Jack a hundred times over than for you to think that you’re worthless.”  


You close your mouth and your eyes widen at that. John’s expression is serious and you see more tears stream down his cheek toward the blood pooling between the two of you. “If I didn’t fight Jack when I came out here then he would have made sure that you didn’t wake up and I couldn’t allow that.”  


You’re crying now and feel the wetness roll across the side of your nose. John’s jaw is set and the pressure on your hand increases from his grip. A hiccup escapes from your lips and the amount of tears in your eyes multiplies. John unlocks his fingers from yours and reaches toward your eyes to catch the drops on his thumb. You grab his elbow and scoot your body closer to his, ignoring the ache shooting along your middle. Your shaking now and licking the salty wetness off of your lips. You can do this; just tell him how you feel.  
“John, I-”  


His shoulders start shaking violently and the next thing you know he’s coughing up blood in a shuddering fit. His eyes are scrunched up and he’s facing downward to avoid sputtering in your face. Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes widen even more and watch as he’s gasping. John shrinks in on himself and looks so much smaller now, frailer. His breath slows down and his eyes remain shut. He’s okay. You reach toward him and grab his shoulder reassuringly. You don’t know if you’re trying to reassure him or yourself. He’s god tier. He can’t die.  


Unless.  


Oh no. Just or heroic. A ringing starts in your ears and you listen as his breath slows to a faint whistling sound. His hand is resting on your chest and pulls at the fabric. “John,” you mutter softly at first, gripping his shoulder harder. “John!” You see his eyes moving beneath his lids and the blood from his wound swirls under his cheek. His lashes flutter as his eyes open and he glances up tiredly at the concern plastered across your face. His blue eyes are clouded with tears and you see that he’s exhausted.  


“John, just keep your eyes open okay? You have to stay awake for me. Dave and the others will find us soon and they’ll patch us up. Okay?”  


He nods a fraction of an inch and rubs the material of your sweater between his index finger and thumb. His lips are parted slightly trying to suck in enough air.  


“I’m tired.”  


You can hear fear in his voice and it sends your heart racing up into your throat. You rub circles into his shoulder with your thumb; the fabric is soft. “I know, but you need to stay awake.” Salt water fills your mouth when you speak and you repress shudders that course along your spine. “You’ll sleep later after you get fixed up. After we stop the blood, alright?”  


John is still looking at you, but it’s like he’s concentrating on something far off in the distance. You feel his shoulder rise and fall slightly with each struggle of a breath. He looks so fragile and you move closer. You glide your hand from his shoulder to the indent toward the top of his back and remove any space between the two of you. John sees what you are trying to do and rotates his body so he’s no longer on his stomach by resting on his side. He bunches his hands near the tuft of fabric at the collar of your sweater and you slide your other hand under his cheek. His skin is cold.  


You stare nervously at his hooded eyes and blink away more tears. “Don’t you fucking dare close your eyes, understand? Don’t you fucking dare.” You bite your bottom lip anxiously and see that he keeps his lids open, if only by a centimeter.  


“Karkat…”  


You bring him closer to your chest and feel him nestle his face in the crook of your neck. His hair is crusted with dried blood and smells disgusting, but you couldn’t care less. He’s right here and you’re going to hold him with every ounce of strength you have left.  


“I’m right here, just stay awake a bit longer, I’m right here,” you whisper into his dark curls and close your eyes to stall the tears. John loosens his grip on your sweater and you feel his humid breath ghost your neck. His lips are pressed up near your ear and you feel them move slightly against your skin.  


“I’m sorry.”  


You freeze. Nonononono. Air puffs against your skin then disappears altogether, leaving nothing but a phantom imprint of warmth. You feel his shoulders sink once more and fail rise up in their usual rhythm.  


Just or heroic.  


You suck in a gasp of cold air. “John?” No response. “John,” you try again, this time more pleadingly and end with the same results. This wasn’t just nor heroic; this was a good person in the wrong place at the wrong time. It should be you. His hair collects the water streaming from your eyes heavily and you finally allow yourself to let go. Shudders quake through your entire frame and you grip John tighter to anchor yourself down.  


Please don’t, please.  


“Don’t take him from me!”  


Your voice bounces off of the nearby building and rings back in your ears. Your stab wound is agonizing, but is nothing compared to the searing burn that heats the core of your chest, below your throat. You start hyperventilating and you try to breath him in. You didn’t even tell him, you never got to tell him.  


“Please, John, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please come back, please!”  


Your words come blubbering out in an incomprehensible jumble mixed with heavy breaths. It’s more difficult to get air in now and your throat is tight. You faintly hear clatter a far off distance away from where you are. The others maybe? It wouldn’t make a difference. It might as well be Jack come back to finish you off before you bleed out next to the corpse of the only person who you ever completely cared for. The remains of John’s tears are drying on your neck and you savor the feeling of life that is fading quickly.  


You slowly pull yourself away from where you were buried in his hair and look at his face. His eyes are closed and he’s expressionless. All he wanted was to sleep. He couldn’t wait longer. You move your head forward in concentration and press your lips gently to his. It was only a second, but with you losing blood and consciousness fast it felt like an eternity. He tastes like mint.  


“I’m sorry.”  


The sound of your meteor companions is definite now and you hear voices echo down the corridor. They’ll find you soon enough. They’ll find John. They’ll find you both too late. You press your forehead to his and breathe in deeply through your sobs.  
“I love you.”  


You close your eyes and don’t open them when you hear the screams of someone far off. You don’t open them when you feel people crowd around you shaking your body looking for a response, and you defiantly don’t open them as you allow the darkness to envelope you in a still thickness.


	6. Chapter 6

“Karkat?”  


You open your eyes with effort and squint at the sudden bombardment of blue in your vision. “Ugh. Where the fuck am I?” Your throat feels a bit sore, but functioning overall. An unexpected force rams into you full throttle and encloses around your upper body. “Karkat, you’re all right! I can’t believe it!”  


John.  


You open your eyes in surprise and quickly recognize chocolate-brown tufts of hair forcibly shoved against your cheek. You raise up your hands and push him away by his shoulders, but don’t let your grip on him go just yet. You scan your eyes over his kneeling form and take in his image. The cuts and scratches along his arms and face are vanished and the gaping hole through his stomach has dissolved without a trace. The blood that was once caking his hair is nowhere to be seen and his clothes are clean. He’s gleaming at you with a grin the size of Skaia and looks you over also as you inspect him. He appears just like he was before everything.  


Then you peer up at his eyes.  


The light cerulean that once that once danced around his iris’ cleared away and had been replaced with a milky white that shined brightly against the black of his lashes. You sit up with less struggle that you thought and reach up shyly with your right hand to brush your thumb near his cheek that sends shivers through him. You assume john is looking back at you, but you’re unable to tell where his iris’ are in the endless sea of white that’s pulling you in. “What happened?” You ask with concern etched into your tone like writing. He lifts up his hand to clutch the one you placed on his cheek and leans into your touch.  


“I think we’re dead.”  


There’s no trace of fear or sadness in his voice; only calm and comfort as he explains. “I think this is what Rose called a “dream bubble” once. It’s where the ghosts go.” You look away from him and examine your surroundings for the first time. All around you are luminescent tree-type things growing up from the ground like fire and mushrooms dotted everywhere. The whole scene varies in different shades of blue while light-brown rocks rise up in jagged mounds from the ground. You glance up above you to the sky to see a thick layer of clouds blocking out the oil-canvas of space you grew used to. You know this place. It’s John’s player planet. You saw him here when you were pestering him on trollian.  


Your gaze settles from the swirling clouds above to your sweater. It’s no longer soaked through with red so the gray material stares back up at you boringly, same as the sky gaping down. John’s eyes are burning holes into your figure and you look up to match his gaze. He doesn’t face away as he speaks, but gestures with his hand that isn’t with your own near his cheek. “This is the place I was transported to at the beginning of the game. Rose says that dream bubbles allow you to travel into a memory, so I guess this is mine.”  


He smiles coyly and moves his gesturing hand to your own placed on your lap and interlocks your fingers. You don’t realize you’re crying until a drop plops onto your and John’s hands and it’s cool to the touch. His smile falters and he leans forward a bit. “Hey, it’s fine. We can stay in this bubble hopping between memories and possibly see some of our friends when they sleep and we can talk with the little salamanders that live around here!” You see he’s starting to ramble and console you. “They’re really cute and I can introduce you to Casey and- “  


He doesn’t get to finish because you suddenly ram your mouth against his own in protest to his blabbering. The tears on your cheeks smear against his and you shut your eyes. Your teeth collided from the impact, but you recovered quickly and savor the feeling of his lips bunched up against your own. It’s worth it. If you get to kiss John Egbert like this every time you died then you would do it all over again in a heartbeat.  


You feel him go rigid under you and you pull away slowly, grazing his lips one last time, sending jolts of electricity down your spine. “Sorry I got us killed,” you mumble under your breath apologetically. You feel the corners of John’s lips turn upwards beneath your hand cupping his cheek and peer up at him to see his eyes squeezed shut in a fit of giggles. You never appreciated how beautiful he was until you thought you lost him. And now you have a second chance of letting him know how much you care about him every fucking day.  


“It’s okay,” he responds joyfully, both of his hands releasing your own to rest near the back of your neck. “I basically started all of this with that stupid prank.” You’re about to protest, but he cuts you off before your mouth is fully open. “And don’t say it’s your fault because we both know that’s pure bullshit and that you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” He waits, ready to counter any rebuttal you’ll dish out. You keep your mouth shut and place one hand on his thigh while the other remains stationed on his cheek. John smirks knowing that he made his point and leans in to rest his forehead against yours.  


“Karkat?”  


You hum in response and look at the hand you place on his thigh. The fabric of his god-tier pajamas is soft and the color is a calming shade of blue like how his eyes used to be. John’s hands tighten almost unnoticeably around your neck and you wait for him to continue. He releases a breath and you notice his muscles are tense. “I’m sorry about all the idiotic pranks I’ve pulled on you over the past few months and I’m sorry about just being a complete douche to you when you obviously wanted me to leave you alone.”  
You sense that he has more to say so you remain voiceless. You feel his forehead crease and the breathing from his nose blows against your own. “Karkat, I have had a crush on you for a while now and I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you before because I’m a coward and a wimp and hid behind jokes and you deserve someone better… but if you let me, I know I can make you happy.”  


He revealed it all in one gigantic breath and you have to process his words a moment before registering what exactly he said. It’s like a gear snaps back into place in a machine and you lift your head away from his to look at him. John has himself facing the ground as he inspects your hand latched onto his thigh. His eyes are no longer the striking blue that you longed for once, but a soft cream color that still leaves you hypnotized. You suppose your eyes are the same now that both of you are dead, but his will always appear brighter than you could ever hope to get your own.  


You slide your hand from his cheek to his chin and tilt it upwards so you can watch his expression clearer. You want to see every possible detail of his face that you’ve been yearning after for such a long time.  


“John Egbert, you have made me the happiest I could possibly be just by coming into this cluster-fuck I call my pitiful existence and just being there. You have made this fucking hell of a game worth playing and I will continue to play so long as you and your shit-eating grin are right there with me.” You feel more tears burning at the rims of your eyes like fire and you ignore them. John is all that you can focus on right now.  


He smiles and you see that he’s tearing up also. He giggles and it is honestly the most alluring sound you’ve ever heard. His fingers clench the hair at the nape of your neck and he moves your head closer to his.  


“I love you,” he whispers like a secret in the space between you both. You beam for the first time since you can remember and smile against his lips. You feel a rumble low within your throat and sigh as heat billows upward through your chest. His voice is light and dances patterns around you both and for a moment you just feel him. Your senses extract every fiber of his being, every touch, breath, blink, shudder, everything that’s extraordinary about him. Absolutely everything. “Yeah, I know.” You repress laughter threatening to escape your chest and nestle yourself closer into his embrace. You know. You pull his cheek softly downward to place your lips gingerly to his forehead and stay there, smelling the sweet odor emitting from his hair that you still can’t exactly place. You suppose it’s just him. I love you, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting chapters every couple of days and new fics with new pairings will come. Criticism is always appreciated, Thanks.


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